Truce
by ChubbyBunny
Summary: Mirai Trunks has been summoned to a meeting by Android 18. In a desolate future, can the man trying to save earth make a truce with one of the creatures trying to destroy it?


The sun was just beginning to rise over the rubble of the city below, its orange and pink haze covering the mounds of broken concrete and wood like fire. It was summer, and though it was only six in the morning the heat was already into the 80's. The dry earth and brown shriveled trees echoed the dry, empty atmosphere that had come along with the androids. From his spot high atop the hill, Trunks could see everything; all of the devastation and heartbreak and broken dreams of thousands of people. It hummed in his bones like an angry wind. And despite all of it, all of his hatred towards the beings (if you could even call them that), that had caused this, he was here because of her.

Because she had asked.

She'd delivered her hurried message late last evening in the form of a crumpled ball of paper dropped onto his forehead through the skylight as he slept. She'd flown right above him, the easiest of targets and he hadn't even noticed. The androids didn't emit ki, so trying to track them was useless. It's what made his mission to destroy them damn near impossible. Hell, he didn't even wake up until he'd felt the message drop right onto his face. It asked him to wait for her here, in this spot at dawn. And despite all of his better judgement, and everything she had done, here he was.

The sound of quiet footsteps came from behind him. He knew she was only making noise for his sake.

Trunks turned his head, body tense as Android 18 walked up to him, hand on her hip. Her platinum blonde hair covered one half of her perfect elfin face, ice blue eyes piercing him with a pleased glint,"You're here." She stated, not surprised in the least bit.

She knew he would come. Why wouldn't he? It was an opportunity too good to pass up. Mortal enemies, one inviting the other to a meeting of unknown circumstances.

He nodded slightly, scowl deepening, "That's what the note said to do."

"And do you always follow directions like a good boy?" 18's voice was light, teasing, so human-like it made Trunks uncomfortable. She was close now, just behind him on the cliff ledge he was sitting on. It was closer than he'd ever been to her without the two of them going at one another like rabid dogs. He registered then how beautiful she was, lithe and still muscular. It was a damn shame she wasn't real. An illusion. An android. And dangerous.

He should destroy her now, get it over with. It would be so easy.

But there was something about her posture that made him pause. It was relaxed, calm...

Trusting.

This killing machine was trusting him with her existence. For whatever crazy reason.

Instead of following his Sayian instincts boiling just below the surface urging him to rip her to shreds, he relaxed his clenched fist and said, "Well, considering the fact you could have blown me up while I slept last night and didn't I figured this wouldn't be a trap."

18 noticed his body relaxing and raised an incredulous eyebrow, "You're too trusting. It'll come back and bite you in the ass if you're not careful. You never know where the big-bad-wolf could be hiding."

Trunks decided to play his trump card, the one he had suspected since he received her message last night, "Shame your Brother couldn't be here. Where's 17?"

18 froze. He knew he had her then.

"He doesn't know you're here...does he?"

"It's none of his business." She looked guilty and suddenly very nervous.

"He's your other half, you'd think he'd be interested in this little meeting."

Her ice blue eyes glowed with anger, "You'd better not tell him or-"

Trunks held up a hand, and couldn't help but smile. Damn his Saiyan ancestry. It would surely be the death of him some day. It was stupid, but this was almost...fun. This conspiratorial deal with the devil. This beautiful, dangerous devil. "Don't worry," he chuckled, "I figured as much. I won't say anything. After this, we can forget and go back to trying to kill each other. Deal?"

She sighed, then nodded. Trunks wondered if she really even needed to breathe, or if she did so out of habit. Was she human at some point? Who was she?

While he was lost in thought, 18 without hesitation came and sat beside him, their shoulders almost touching. Trunks tried not to faint at her forwardness. She crossed one of her thin legs over the other, clad in tight black leggings and short denim skirt and dangled them over the edge. It was so natural looking for her, so unapologetically girly. He couldn't help but stare at her profile; he'd never had the opportunity to do so before. 18's skin was pale but not unnaturally so, with a light flush across her high cheekbones. Her thin nose came to a point over her full, rosy lips. Her eyelashes were blonde, like her hair and they were long...almost impossibly so.

"See something you like?" She asked, eyes still locked on something far away in the distance in front of her.

Trunks felt himself blush; it was always easy for him to do so. Unfortunately easy. His mother found it endearing. He found it miserable, "S-sorry." He muttered, finally tearing his gaze away from her. An awkward silence followed. What was he doing ogling her? She must think he was a weirdo.

Wait. Why would he care what she thought of him?

Trunks's face grew hotter, and he knew his cheeks must be flaming red. This was stupid. HE was stupid. She was a stone cold killer, murderer of his best friend and thousands of others. The last thing he should be doing is thinking about is what SHE thought of HIM...

Cool fingertips brushed across his forehead, palm resting against his skin, "You look ill." 18's voice was matter-of-fact and collected, as if touching him was the most natural thing in the world; as if they weren't trying on an almost daily basis to kill one another.

It took everything in his power to keep Trunks from melting into a puddle or flailing away to hide. This...this was ridiculous! His large blue eyes blinked helplessly at her as 18 brushed a lock of his lavender hair to the side, her expression growing more puzzled by the second, "Hm," she mused, "your not ill at all-"

"N-no." His voice cracked, betraying his effort at regaining control of the situation. With as much restraint as possible he took her by the wrist and pushed her hand back into her lap. 18 smirked at him, bemused. Whether or not she realized what her actions implicated, Trunks did know she could sense his quickened heartbeat. It was painfully obvious she had the upper hand; it was just a question of if she intended it.

Trunks cleared his throat, "Listen, you're the one who called me out here. It seems like your stalling. Your note said you had something important to discuss with me, so what is it?"

18's smile faded, expression losing its playful edge, "What's your favorite color?"

If Trunks hadn't been sitting he was sure he'd have fallen through the earth, "Wha-what?!"

"Color. What's your favorite?" She repeated it slowly, like he was some kind of idiotic, alien life form. Which to her, he probably was.

This conversation wasn't happening... he was dreaming. Maybe dead. She hypothetically could have already blown him to smithereens and he didn't realize it. This female half of the duo who had killed Gohan, his mentor and only friend, was asking him questions you'd expect to hear when you were on a date for the first time.

Wait.

Was that was this was?

This was surreal; ludicrous.

"Blue." Trunks blurted, unable to control his brain anymore.

18 smiled, and it was beautiful. "Why?"

His first horrific thought was, 'It's the color of your eyes.' But that was so wrong he felt like throwing himself off the cliff. "It's... the color of the sky." Trunks finished lamely.

"The sky can be many colors," 18 said, "why blue? Why is it so special?"

"What does it matter?"

"Because it's my favorite too. At least, that's what my programming says."

Trunks exhaled, just a little too loud, "Oh."

The way she was looking at him was unnerving, "What's your favorite food?"

"Are we seriously doing this right now-"

"Humor me."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to escape the way she seemed to look right into him, "...Cheeseburgers."

"Why?"

"Wha-geeze, I don't know. Because they taste good. Haven't had one in awhile though."

Because of her. Because of them. Any shred of normalcy was all gone because of she and her brother.

"I don't need to eat; but I wish I could." Her voice was composed, but unusually quiet.

Trunks raised his head and frowned, his expression apparently asking the question he was thinking because she answered, "I used too...once. I can't really remember though."

"Oh." It was all he could come up with. Suddenly feeling... guilty was not something he was expecting, "So, why don't you have to anymore?"

Shrugging, 18 kicked her feet back and forth over the edge, "It's unnecessary. Our genetics and tissue makeup have been redesigned to where nutrition is obsolete. We're still all human parts, just more efficient."

Trunks stared at her, stunned, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Figured someone should know."

"Hn." Trunks dropped his eyes to look at his hand, resting so close to hers. 18's hands were much smaller than his. If he were to take it, no doubt the whole thing would be engulfed by his tan palm-

No.

This was wrong. So, so wrong.

His fist clenched, gathering earth in between his fingers. It was a welcome distraction. Was he really that lonely? That starved for human interaction that he was willing to humor this lifeless being? This murderer? What would his mother say?

Worse, what would his father say? The one he could hardly remember; the prince of a distant planet would no doubt be disgusted with him. Trunks was also a prince by birthright, and he certainly wasn't playing the part right now. And Gohan...

Trunks tilted his head forward so that his mop of lavender hair put up a shield between him and her. He'd never get over it; seeing his mentor dead and laying like trash in the mud. They'd left him there.

SHE had left him there.

Once again, those cool fingers brushed his hair aside, her curious, unnerving blue eyes peering at him, "Tell me why your crying."

Was he? He hadn't realized. Trunks tore his face away from her, feeling the hot tears now, "You killed him."

"The one armed man?"

"Yes!" Trunks turned on her, grabbing 18 by the shoulders and squeezing as hard as he could, "His name was Gohan, he was brave, he was good and my only friend-" his voice cracked, and he could feel his strength waning, "you killed him." He finished miserably, sobs wracking his large shoulders. She sat still, letting him cry, saying nothing. The tears went on for several minutes, until finally Trunks released her from his grip, wiping his eyes on his bicep.

18 reached forward, brushing a stray trail from his face, causing his cheeks to once again burn crimson, "Saying sorry will fix nothing," She said simply, but not unkindly, "if it was that easy, I would have said it a long time ago."

"Yeah well, thanks for the sentiment," Trunks muttered, voice wet, "he's gone now; thanks to you. He was to good for this planet anyways."

18's lips tightened, "You understand as well as I do the nature of our existence. Our two sides can't coexist with each other. I have a mission, just as you do."

"Yours is destruction," Trunks could feel the all familiar burning in his core of his power level rising, wanting to be unleashed, unhinged, "its mine to stop you."

She nodded, "Yes. You are correct."

"Then, why are we here?" He made a large sweeping movement with his arm, "why did you ask me to come here?"

"I wanted to know more about you."

"Why? Isn't the fact that we want to kill each other enough?"

18 lilted her head to one side, eyes traveling over his body, "No. I want to know YOU."

Trunks froze; did she mean...

This was insane. Completely insane. He was inexperienced with women in every way imaginable. Was she propositioning-

18 smirked, a soft laugh escaping at his utter confusion. It was a very musical sound.

And with that Trunks felt his heart soar from the pit of his stomach into his throat. It was undeniably wrong, but he knew in that moment something had changed. Whether or not it was for the better was undetermined, but at that second he would have done anything she asked to hear her laugh again.

"L-listen," he stammered, "it's not that I don't think you, you know aren't pretty or anything-"

18 raised an eyebrow.

"B-but I'm not that kind of a guy, and this whole us talking thing is new and who knows where we'll stand in the morning-"

"Hey, relax big guy," she smiled with white perfect teeth, "I didn't say anything about that. I just think you're interesting and wanted to know more about you as a person."

Oh.

"So you... didn't mean..."

"Mean what?"

Trunks stared at her in wide-eyed horror. Oh no. What had he just done?

She winked, "I'm not that easy. You've got to butter me up more than that. You're not very smooth there, buddy. You're as subtle as a freight train."

The nervous nausea gripped him and Trunks heaved out a groan, resting his head in his hands, "You were teasing me-"

"Of course," she grinned, "had to change the subject somehow."

He couldn't help it, Trunks laughed. And 18 looked pleased. After the moment had ended, he looked at her and said softly, "You know, sometimes you seem like you're not completely terrible."

18 shrugged, suddenly looking embarrassed and smiled. She nudged his shoulder with hers, "It's a trick."

With a snort, Trunks nudged her back. They continued their questions for a time, Trunks growing all the more aware his mother would be looking for him soon. His conflicted feelings pulsing between hatred and adoration were also starting to wear on him. As the sun continued into the middle of the sky, he finally asked, "So, you've probably got to get going soon, huh?"

Her smile faded, attention being turned back to the broken city beneath them, "Yeah."

Sighing, Trunks leaned back until he was resting on his elbows. The ease he felt around her now was dangerous, but for once it just felt good to be a boy and a girl getting to know one another, "Well, this probably can't happen again."

18 glanced at him over her shoulder, something unreadable in her eyes as she regarded him, "Meet me here tomorrow. Same time."

Trunks blinked, eyebrows reaching his forehead, "But, this is dangerous for both of us; your brother-"

"Don't worry about him. I can protect you."

Stunned, Trunks felt something hot in the pit of his stomach, curling and twisting him up in knots. Though he refused to give that feeling a name, he knew what it was and the excitement that came with it was laced with guilt. Perhaps, there was far more to 18 than he realized. Maybe he should give her a chance, she'd already surprised him today; and something within him demanded to know her more.

Trunks could feel the shift in his demeanor and he pushed himself to sit upright, suddenly feeling more possessive than he ever had in his life. 18 had also noted the change, her eyes going wide as he leaned closer to her, his blue gaze refusing to let hers go, "Thank you." he murmured, his voice deeper than he'd heard it before.

18 blushed, "It's nothing. Just repayment for humoring me."

"Sure," Trunks smiled, "I offer you my protection as well."

She looked flustered, cheeks going pink again as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned away, "If it's not me kicking your ass you mean."

"Even then," he chuckled, "I promise."

"Hmpf." 18 crossed her arms, irritated and flustered, "you're a stupid boy to want to trust me."

Trunks shrugged, "What else do I have to lose?"

"Good point." 18 pulled her legs beneath her, rising to her knees and facing him head on now. Trunks had come to realize during their brief truce that she had no sense of personal boundaries, and this only proved more true when she shoved her face into his, nose tips touching, "you only have your life. And you're stupid enough to put it in my hands." Her cool breath washed across his mouth, "See you tomorrow." She said. It wasn't a question.

He nodded dumbly, gaze traveling shamelessly to her lips.

He wanted to kiss her.

The reality hit him like a punch to the gut. Before he could stop himself he took both of her shoulders in his hands and angled his face, nose brushing off to the side of hers and for the briefest moment he could feel the softness of her bottom lip caress his...

And then she was gone, and his hands were empty.

He groaned, fingers fisting in his hair as he flopped backwards in an emotionally drained heap. What an idiot he was. He really was just a stupid boy. Closing his eyes, he let the sun heat his face and just accepted the fact that there was no chance in hell she was meeting him again tomorrow-

Until he felt the gentle brush of hair on his cheeks, and the warm breath that hovered over his lips. Trunks's eyes snapped open, and saw 18 was above him, sitting near his head with her hands now touching his face. She looked worried, "Sorry." she said.

"For what?" Was that his voice? It sounded breathless.

"Running. Like a coward."

She was still so close, maybe even closer now. It could have been his imagination.

"Your no coward." He murmured, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. It was soft, like silk.

"Was that your first kiss?"

Trunks flushed, "Yes."

"Mine too."

He swallowed, "Were you programmed to think that?"

18 looked thoughtful, "No. It's a feeling."

Face burning, Trunks asked, "...can I try again?"

18's eyebrows knitted together, uncertainty etching across her face, "Are you sure you want that? You're to good for-"

Trunks wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her lips against his.


End file.
